


Player Two, Press Start

by Scrawlers



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 05:55:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17017002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scrawlers/pseuds/Scrawlers
Summary: Middle school was a confusing and frustrating time for Honda, but in the beginning, the most frustrating bit of all was that Jounouchi kid he got partnered up with for his science project.





	Player Two, Press Start

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a few years ago, but in light of Tumblr being . . . Tumblr, I've decided to archive everything here.
> 
> Honda has trouble opening up to people at the start of the series, and I can only imagine that it was even harder for him when he was younger. Given what little details Takahashi has given us about their relationship back in middle school, as well as the headcanons I’ve developed about Honda’s home life given what little information we get from him in canon, as well as everything I know about Jounouchi, well . . . given all of that, the following little “explanations” for how Honda and Jounouchi befriended each other sort of just tumbled out on their own.
> 
> Given how the Japanese school system works and their respective birthdays, Honda is thirteen here, whereas Jounouchi is twelve, and this is their first year of middle school therefore. Also, as a reminder, “sista” is how I’ve chosen to translate “aneki,” which is a word that a punk in a gang would use to refer to an older female gang member he respects (typically).

By the time June rolled around, Honda still didn’t know the names of all his classmates, and for that reason he didn’t really pay attention when his science teacher called out the names of everyone’s lab partners and told them to split off into pairs to get to work.

He hated group projects. Most of the time the other members of his group didn’t want to work, and even when they did, the work was often tedious and could have been better taken care of if he was allowed to work on it by himself. Not that he necessarily wanted to work on it by himself, either; the truth was, he hated  _school_ , but with his parents breathing down his neck to make good grades so he could get into a good high school, he didn’t have much choice but to at least try. Not that trying did him much good, at least in their eyes, but—

Anyway. He worked better when he was by himself. At least then he knew that whatever grade he got was one that  _he_  had earned. At least then he didn’t have to deal with trying to get along with whatever kids he’d been grouped up with. It never really worked out no matter how much he tried, anyway, which was why he figured it was best to just not try from the outset. 

So he didn’t pay attention when his teacher spouted off the name of the kid he was paired up with, nor did he make any effort to get up and go find the kid when everyone else started splitting off into groups. Whoever it was would find him. Sure enough, within a couple minutes someone dragged a chair over to the front of his desk and dropped unceremoniously into it, quiet for only a second as Honda doodled a dog into the margin of his textbook.

“Hey. You’re Honda, right?”

“Uh-huh,” Honda grunted, as he shaded in the dog’s back. He wasn’t much of an artist, but he thought it looked kind of like a German shepherd. It should, he thought, considering all he’d been doing lately was looking at pictures of German shepherds. There was no telling what kind of dog he’d find at the shelter when he finally went to go adopt one, but he was really hoping it’d be a shepherd.

“Cool. I’m your lab partner, or whatever,” the kid said. Honda made another noncommittal noise in the back of his throat. No doubt their teacher would be bearing down on him in any second to ask them what they had decided to do about their project, but for now, it could wait. “Name’s Jounouchi.”

“Okay.” Honda considered his drawing for a second, and then added another tuft of fur onto the dog’s tail. This made it look more like a poodle’s tail, somehow, and with an irritated frown he flipped his pencil over to try and erase it. Unfortunately, with how glossy the textbook pages were, all this did was create a black smudge over the entire thing.

“What’re you drawing?” Jounouchi asked. He leaned over Honda’s desk to look at the book, and—irritated now that the kid was leaning halfway over his textbook so he couldn’t even easily see the ruined doodle anymore, on top of already being annoyed at the black smudge he’d created—Honda pulled the book back toward him and snapped it shut.

“Nothing,” he said shortly. With his book closed and his doodle ruined, Honda sat back to properly look at his assigned lab partner for the first time—and when he did, he wasn’t sure how he hadn’t recognized the kid’s voice before.

He knew this kid.  _Everyone_  knew this kid, because not a day went by when he didn’t get himself in trouble somehow. Despite being kind of scrawny and unassuming aside from the way he wore his uniform incorrectly and was usually sporting a bruise or two (such as the shiner he had around his right eye at present), Jounouchi had a loud voice and big mouth with which to project it. He constantly talked back to their teachers and, from the looks of things, got in fights pretty regularly. It was no secret that his test scores weren’t great, either (not that Honda’s were much better), and from the way he’d fall asleep in class sometimes or else not have his homework when the teacher went around to collect it, it was pretty obvious he didn’t care very much about school. All of that, and  _he_  was the lab partner Honda was stuck with.

Honda sighed. Well, so much for getting at least a passing grade to appease his parents. Great.

“It didn’t look like nothing. Kinda looked like a dog, or alien, or something. Maybe an alien dog,” Jounouchi said.

Honda scowled. “It wasn’t an alien dog. It was a normal dog.”

“Really?” Jounouchi grinned, and somehow, that grin just irritated Honda even more. “Didn’t really look like a normal dog with that big black thing growing out of it.”

“That was just a smudge from my—whatever, it doesn’t matter.” Honda opened his textbook again and started flipping through the pages. He couldn’t remember what section they were in. “What do you want to do for this project?”

“Don’t know.” Jounouchi patted down his pockets, looking for something, and after a minute he pulled out a half-empty pack of gum. He pulled a piece out for himself before he held the pack out to Honda. “Want one?”

Honda frowned at him. “We’re not supposed to chew gum during class.”

“So? Teach isn’t looking.” Jounouchi nodded his head over at their teacher, who was currently bent over the desk of a tiny kid with wavy hair and glasses the size of his face, and a lab partner that dwarfed him twice over in size. “‘Sides, who cares if she was? It’s just gum.”

Honda stared at him a second more before he shook his head. “No thanks.” His parents had promised that if he could go three months without getting in trouble at school, they’d consider letting him get a dog. His three months of trouble-free school life were almost up, and he wasn’t about to screw it up over gum, of all things.

Jounouchi shrugged, and stuffed the pack of gum back in his pocket. “Suit yourself,” he said.

Honda continued flipping through the pages of his textbook, while Jounouchi chewed his gum loudly, popping it every few seconds. He wasn’t discreet at all, but while part of Honda vindictively wished he would get told off for it, mostly he just wanted the annoying noise to stop. Before he could say anything, though, their teacher made their way over to them, and despite what Jounouchi had said about it being 'just gum,’ his gum popping suddenly became a lot more subtle.

“Honda-kun, Jounouchi-kun,” their teacher said, “what have you two decided on for your project?”

Honda pressed his lips together in a frown. Jounouchi hadn’t even brought his own book over, much less looked at Honda’s, and given that Honda couldn’t remember what section they were in . . . “Uh—”

“Uranus,” Jounouchi said, and he flashed a cheeky grin. Honda looked at him, and somehow he knew exactly what was about to come out of Jounouchi’s mouth, and he dreaded every word of it. Their teacher turned to him with a frown.

“Uranus?” she asked. “We’re not in the astronomy unit yet. That isn’t until next term.”

“Aww, really? But we were so excited for it, too!” Jounouchi said, and he tilted his chair back on two legs. “C'mon, teach, we were hoping you’d give us a private viewing and everything.”

Several of their nearby classmates started snickering, while a few others groaned and rolled their eyes. Honda, for his part, wished he could get up and walk out as their teacher’s face flushed red and her eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Keep up talk like that and the only thing I’ll be giving the pair of you is a failing grade and a double detention,” she snapped. “Now buckle down and get serious. I want you two to have picked a suitable project by the time I come back over here.” With that, she turned and made her way to the next pair of students, and Honda glowered in the face of Jounouchi’s grin.

“What was that about?” he demanded.

“What?” Jounouchi asked, and the flippant, too-innocent expression he wore in the face of Honda’s glare made Honda want to tip his chair back the rest of the way. “You didn’t have an answer for her, right? So I just ran a distraction, that’s all.”

“You hit on the teacher.”

“Not seriously.” Jounouchi snorted. “What, you think I’d be interested in an old bag like that? Get real.”

“Keep your voice down!” Honda hissed, as their teacher looked over at them with a suspicious stare. “Do you  _want_  to get in trouble? Do you want to fail? Is that what you want?”

“Detention’s not so bad,” he said. “And she can’t fail us just for acting stupid, so—”

“No, but she can put us in detention or write home to our parents,” Honda said. “Or both, and do you really want to deal with your parents getting pissed at you over that?” Because whatever Jounouchi’s answer was, Honda knew that he certainly didn’t.

But Jounouchi shrugged. “My parents don’t really care what I do.”

Honda snorted and muttered, “Must be nice.” Jounouchi shrugged again, and turned his eyes to the ceiling. After a few moments of silence, Honda flipped through another few pages in his textbook, and—when he saw that he was on a page that resembled what another student nearby was looking at—he sighed and thumped his finger against it. “There,” he said. “Magnets. We can do something with magnetism.”

“Okay,” Jounouchi said, and Honda got the idea that he could have said they were doing a project on stuffed animals, and Jounouchi would have shown similar interest and care.

It was going to be a long few weeks.

**\- - -**

Honda’s after school routine was just that: a routine. He would go home, see if he could sneak in a few rounds of  _Doom_  or  _Street Fighter II_ , probably get kicked off the games by his sister and made to do his homework instead, eat dinner, finish his homework, and then—if he was really lucky—be allowed to play more  _Doom_  or  _Street Fighter_   _II_  before bed. Some might call it boring, but Honda figured this contributed to his Adopt a Dog campaign he had going since it kept him out of trouble, so he didn’t mind it very much.

As he stepped through the school doors, he found that someone else had different plans.

“Hey!” Honda turned to see Jounouchi jogging up to him, a stupid grin on his face. Honda clamped his teeth together and turned away to keep walking home. “What’s up? Got anything going on?”

“No,” Honda said.

Jounouchi laced his fingers together behind his head. “Cool, me neither. Wanna hang out? We could get started on that stupid science project, if you wanted.”

“No,” Honda said again, and then he sighed. “Look, I’ll do the stupid project, okay? You don’t have to worry about it. So just . . . go home.” By which Honda really meant,  _go away._

Jounouchi frowned. “What? That’s not fair. Why should you have to do it all by yourself?”

Honda gave him a dumbfounded look. “What, you  _want_  to do it?”

“No,” Jounouchi said immediately. “But I don’t think it’s fair to make you do the whole thing. It’s  _our_  project, right?”

“Yeah, but I’m the only one who cares about passing,” Honda said, and the brief bit of hope he’d felt when Jounouchi showed interest was replaced with irritation. Trust the class idiot to want to be noble, or helpful, or whatever game Jounouchi was up to. “So I’ll take care of it. You can go back to goofing off.”

“Nah. I don’t really like letting others carry me, you know?” Jounouchi said, and Honda took a deep breath through his nose. By now they had reached the school gates. Two more steps, and they’d be off school property . . . “So I’ll help. Where are you headed to go work on it? Your house?”

“Yes, and you’re not invited,” Honda said flatly. He stopped just outside the school gates, and turned to face Jounouchi, who raised his eyebrows. “Leave me alone and go away.”

“But how am I supposed to help if we’re not working on it in the same place?” Jounouchi asked. “I don’t have a phone, so—”

“You’re not. You’re not going to help. I’m going to do it by myself,” Honda said, and it was amazing, really, how he was paired up with the one kid in class who not only couldn’t understand when he wanted to be left alone, but who also only cared about doing a project when he wasn’t wanted on the team. “So shut up and go away.”

Jounouchi rolled his eyes. “You’re a piece of work, you know that?” he said. “I already said I’m helping, so you might as well accept it. Besides, I’ve seen your grades whenever it was my turn to pass back papers, and yours aren’t so hot, either. You definitely need my help just as much as I—”

Honda didn’t know what made him do it. Being told that his grades weren’t that great was nothing new; he already knew that his grades weren’t stellar, and heard it every other day from his parents. But maybe it was the fact that his temper had built up all day, or that he had been working so hard to stay in line over the past three months without any sort of stress relief, that did it. Either way, the next thing Honda knew he had pulled back his arm and threw his fist forward to slug Jounouchi in the face, only to have Jounouchi easily duck under his swing and side step, skipping nimbly back out of Honda’s reach.

“Wow,” Jounouchi said, and far from looking scared, or even angry, he was grinning again. “You’ve never been in a fight before, have you?”

“No,” Honda said, and he shoved both hands in his pockets to prevent himself from trying again. Technically they weren’t on school property now, but he still didn’t want word to get back to his parents that he had been fighting. That would make them decide not to let him adopt a dog for sure. “So what?”

“So that was really bad,” Jounouchi said, and now he started laughing outright. Honda squeezed his hands into fists in his pockets. “Seriously, you showed me that was coming from a mile away, and even if you hadn’t, that follow-through sucked. It wouldn’t have hurt me even if it did hit.”

“Yeah?” Honda said, and Jounouchi nodded. “And I bet you can do so much better, huh?”

“Yup,” Jounouchi said.

Honda snorted, and was about to say that he doubted it given how shrimpy Jounouchi was, but the next thing he knew Jounouchi threw himself forward, and before Honda could prepare himself to block a punch, Jounouchi rammed his knee straight into Honda’s stomach. Pain bad enough to double Honda over exploded in his gut, and he coughed and wheezed as he fell to his knees.

“Rule one of fighting,” Jounouchi said, and Honda glared up in the face of Jounouchi’s cocky smirk, “never let your opponent guess what you’re gonna do. That gives them time to prepare, and you time to get screwed. And rule two? Always throw your weight into it. You can have all the muscle in the world, but throwing noodle arms won’t help you.”

“Noted,” Honda grunted, an arm wrapped around his stomach. “And tomorrow, I’m beating your ass.”

Jounouchi threw his head back and laughed. “Okay,” he said. “You can try. But after that, we’re gonna work on our science project, okay? On magnets, or whatever.”

Before Honda could say anything else, Jounouchi turned and started back across the school grounds—toward the bike rack, it looked like, as if Jounouchi had been planning to leave his bike at school to follow Honda home like an idiot. It took a few moments for him to regain his breath, but as Honda pushed himself to his feet and reached for his schoolbag, he knew one thing for sure:

He disliked most of his classmates, but he  _couldn’t stand_ that Jounouchi kid.

 **\- -**  -

When Honda got home, his older sister, Ayumu, was already there, sprawled across the couch in the living room with a magazine in her hands. She looked up when he entered, and maybe it was the fact that he was still slouching a little due to his sore stomach, but she sat up a little straighter with raised eyebrows, and let her magazine fall across her stomach.

“What happened to you?”

“Nothing,” Honda said, and he dropped his schoolbag by the couch. Ayumu pulled her legs back to give him a place to sit, but he didn’t take it. “It’s just my stupid science partner, that’s all. Mom home?”

“Nope,” Ayumu said. “You get stuck with a partner that won’t do anything?”

Honda’s mind flashed back to Jounouchi insisting he help with the project, but also to Jounouchi’s devil-may-care behavior in class, and snorted. “Something like that,” he said. “Listen, I’m going to go play some  _Doom_ , so if Mom comes hom—”

“Oh no you’re not,” Ayumu said, and Honda groaned. Ayumu sat up straighter on the couch and tossed her magazine onto the coffee table. “You’re going to sit right there and do some homework first. When’s your science project due?”

“At the end of the term,” Honda said. “Listen, I haven’t got any other homework—”

“Liar. Let me see your book bag.” Ayumu held her hand out, and Honda clenched his jaw. Ayumu wiggled her fingers expectantly. “Come on, squirt, hand it over.”

Reluctantly, Honda picked up his book bag and tossed it to her. Despite the weight of the textbooks inside, Ayumu caught it easily, unzipped it in one fluid motion, and dumped the books and notebooks out on the couch.

“This doesn’t look like nothing,” she said.

Honda heaved a sigh. “Okay, so I have some, but I can’t focus on it right now, okay? I need some stress relief. Just let me play a few rounds of  _Doom_ , and—”

“You can play once you’ve done some of your homework,” Ayumu said. She began to sort his books and notebooks onto the table, and Honda scowled as she patted the couch cushion beside her. “Come on, hop to it. You can play  _Doom_  when you’re done. Or do you not want Mom and Dad to let you adopt a dog?”

'Adopt a dog’ was the magic phrase. Honda was still scowling, but he did as instructed and sat down next to Ayumu, though he opted to sit on the floor instead of the couch to make it easier on his back. His older sister grinned.

“Atta boy,” she said.

Yeah. 'Atta boy.’ With the amount of work he had to do, Honda doubted he would be done until some time after dinner, which meant no  _Doom_ for him and an entire day of dealing with Jounouchi the next day.

 _Great_ , he thought sourly, and he shoved his science book away from him and reached for his history book instead.  _Just great._

**_\- - -_ **

As he expected, he hadn’t gotten to play any of his games that night, and when he arrived at school the next morning, Jounouchi was already there. Jounouchi perked up the second he saw Honda enter the room, and as Honda took his seat, Jounouchi bounded over to him.

“Hey,” Jounouchi said. Honda ignored him. “Ready to kick my ass today? Or try, anyway. Our homeroom teacher’s always late, so we’ve got some time.”

“No,” Honda said flatly. He looked up out of the corner of his eye to see that Jounouchi was frowning a little, and unless it was Honda’s imagination, Jounouchi looked a bit guilty.

“Hey, uh—you’re not still hurt from yesterday, are you?” Jounouchi asked. “I didn’t mean to hit you that hard, but if I did—”

“No,” Honda said again, and Jounouchi looked relieved. Honda fought the urge to roll his eyes. Like a little twerp like Jounouchi could ever actually hurt him. “I don’t want to fight because if I do, I’ll get in trouble for it, and word will get back to my parents. That’s all.”

“Who says you’ll get in trouble? You’re only in trouble if you get caught,” Jounouchi said. Once again, Honda ignored him. Maybe if he ignored Jounouchi long enough, Jounouchi would leave him alone. “'Sides, what’s the worst your parents would do, ground you? That’s not so bad.”

“Says you,” Honda snapped, unable to help himself. “Look, just because your parents don’t care doesn’t mean all of us are so lucky. I’m trying to stay out of trouble so I can get my parents to let me get a dog. I don’t need you screwing that up.”

“Oh.” Jounouchi looked thoughtful for a moment, as if the prospect that anyone would try hard to stay out of trouble was new to him, before he said, “Why didn’t you just say so in the first place? If I knew that’s why you were so wound up about the project, I wouldn’t have blown it off.”

“It’s none of your business, that’s why,” Honda said.

Jounouchi scoffed. “'Course it is. We’re science partners, right? So we have to work together.”

Honda chose not to dignify that with a response, and it was just as well, because their homeroom teacher entered at that moment and called for everyone to take their seats. Jounouchi went back to his seat as instructed, and Honda pulled out his notebook to doodle more pictures of dogs while their homeroom teacher went over the usual early morning announcements.

Jounouchi would get bored soon enough, Honda knew. Whatever game he was playing by trying to act all upbeat and buddy-buddy, eventually he would realize there was no point and would leave Honda alone, just like everyone else did. Honda just had to wait him out.

**\- - -**

It didn’t work.

At lunch that day, Jounouchi chose to come sit by him, even though everyone else in their class always studiously avoided Honda’s desk. Honda tried to ignore him, but between Jounouchi asking him if he was planning on finishing his rice, as well as Jounouchi babbling on about everything under the sun (pestering Honda to ask about what kind of dog he wanted, what German shepherds were like, if Honda thought Jounouchi could toss pieces of bread and get them to land in the tall hair of one of their classmates without said classmate noticing . . .), Honda had never been more glad to see the lunch period end than he was that day. During their science class, Jounouchi of course pestered him once again, and Honda reluctantly answered Jounouchi’s questions about their project, and even jotted down a few of Jounouchi’s less horrible ideas. By the end of the day, Jounouchi caught up to him once again and asked if he wanted to work on their project, though this time, he took “no” for an answer more easily than he had the previous day.

“Maybe tomorrow, then?” he asked, and Honda sighed.

“Maybe,” he said, though he knew he was lying.

But the rest of the week followed in the same pattern. Jounouchi would bug him before school, at lunch, and after school, and by the end of the week he finally gave in and allowed Jounouchi to accompany him home to work on the science project. It wouldn’t be  _that_  bad, Honda thought. If nothing else, Jounouchi would probably be put off by Honda’s parents and wouldn’t want to come back. Given that his parents didn’t care what he did, Honda’s parents’ strict rules would definitely be a turn-off, Honda was sure of it. Besides, at this point in the week Honda was getting used to Jounouchi’s attitude. Jounouchi was slightly less annoying now than he had been at the start, and so Honda figured he could handle one afternoon or evening of working on their project at his house.

Ayumu was there when they arrived, as she typically was, though this time she looked as if she was preparing to go out, given the ribbon she had chosen to tie her long hair back and leather jacket she’d swapped her school uniform blazer for. She had just entered the living room when Honda and Jounouchi walked in, and her eyes widened in surprise when she noticed Jounouchi standing beside Honda.

“A friend?” she asked, and Honda felt a little offended at just  _how_ surprised she sounded. Then again, he couldn’t help but feel a little sullen that she was right to be surprised, even if she wasn’t correct in her assumption.

“This is my science partner, Jounouchi,” Honda said, and he gestured toward Jounouchi with one hand. With his other, he gestured toward Ayumu. “Jounouchi, this is my older sister, Ayumu.”

Jounouchi looked Ayumu up and down, and then a sly grin curled on his lips. “Hey sista,” he said.

Ayumu’s eyes widened in an offended look, and she tossed her purse down on the couch to stomp over to them. Ayumu was about five years older than Honda and she easily towered over both of them, but especially Jounouchi. Honda, recognizing the warning in his sister’s eyes, side-stepped to put distance between himself and his unfortunate science partner.

“ _What_  did you just call me?” Ayumu demanded.

“Sista,” Jounouchi repeated, and he stared fearlessly back at her. “Are you trying to tell me you’re not one?”

Honda valued his life way too much to say it, but he had to admit that Jounouchi had a bit of a point. Between her long hair and the way she tied it back, the mismatched way she wore her socks (one pulled up, the other scrunched down), her choice in flashy skirt and unevenly buttoned shirt, and the leather jacket, his big sister did dress like something of a punk. Nevertheless, he rarely saw his sister look  _that_ pissed, and so he kept his mouth shut.

“I’m saying if you call me that again, you’ll lose the ability to speak for the rest of your life,” Ayumu said.

“Sounds about right,” Jounouchi said, and he snapped a two-fingered salute to match his cheeky grin. “I’ll keep it in mind,  _sista_.”

Ayumu swung at him, but much as he had the first day that week when Honda tried to slug him, Jounouchi ducked under Ayumu’s swing and spun around behind her, laughing. Ayumu made a frustrated sound in the back of her throat, and turned to level her glare at Honda.

“I didn’t tell him to say that,” Honda said quickly.

Ayumu rolled her eyes. “You just keep your little shithead friend out of my room,” she said. “I’m going out. If he’s here when I get back, he might end up dead, at least if he doesn’t learn to keep his mouth shut between now and then.” She threw another dirty look Jounouchi’s way, but he stared back, unabashed.

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Honda said. “Is Mom here?”

“No. She and Dad won’t be back until dinner.” Ayumu looked at the couch, glanced at Jounouchi who was standing near it, and then said, “Hey, shithead. Toss me my purse.”

Honda expected Jounouchi to say no. Instead, Jounouchi grabbed the purse off the couch cushions as expected, said, “Catch it, sista!” and tossed it her way.

Ayumu caught it by the strap, and in the same motion, swung it so that it whacked Jounouchi upside his head.

“Call me that again and you’ll get worse,” Ayumu said, as Jounouchi rubbed the spot where she had hit him. Jounouchi said nothing, and Ayumu turned to leave without another word. When the door shut behind her, Honda looked over at Jounouchi.

“My sister will seriously kill you,” he said.

Jounouchi shrugged. “She can try.” He looked around the living room, and after a second said, “Nice place, by the way. It’s big.”

This time, it was Honda’s turn to shrug. He had never had anyone over before, even for school projects, and it felt a little weird to stand there with Jounouchi now—weirder than he had thought it would, anyway, especially with the way Ayumu had kept assuming Jounouchi was his friend even after Honda’s clarification. “It’s okay,” he said.

“No, it’s cool,” Jounouchi said, and he dropped his school bag on the floor by the coffee table, much in the way Honda always did. Honda stood by the door as Jounouchi continued to look around the living room, and after a moment, Jounouchi’s eyes fell on the Super Famicom hooked up to the television. “Hey, you’ve got video games?”

“Yeah,” Honda said, and only as Jounouchi looped around to examine the Super Famicom did he make his way over as well, dropping his own book bag by Jounouchi’s.

“Cool,” Jounouchi said again, as he looked at the different cartridges. After a second, he picked up the  _Street Fighter_   _II_  cartridge and held it up. “This one’s a fighting game, right? Wanna play?”

“Didn’t you want to work on our project?” Honda asked. Jounouchi’s face fell, and he nodded as he turned to put the game back.

“Yeah, you’re right. Sorry, I guess I got a little excited.” After a second, he added loftily, “You know, since this was a fight you  _might_  actually have a chance of beating me in . . .”

They needed to work on their project. It was the only reason that Honda had finally agreed to let Jounouchi come over, and the sooner they were done with it, the quicker he could have Jounouchi out of his hair for good. But Honda took pride in his  _Street Fighter II_  skills, and the insinuation that he could only maybe beat Jounouchi was something that rankled the pride he had built up, especially given that Jounouchi didn’t even seem to be familiar with the game.

So although he knew that they had to work on their project, he stomped around the table and snatched the cartridge from Jounouchi’s hand before he jammed it into the console.

“You’re on,” he said flatly, and Jounouchi grinned.

**\- - -**

Jounouchi, as it turned out, was  _terrible_  at  _Street Fighter II_. He didn’t know what character to pick (not that it mattered, as Honda could play with any), and all he could do was button mash. This did afford him some luck, but what he had in luck, Honda had in skill; Honda whipped him in just about every match, and grinned when Jounouchi loudly complained after losing for the sixth time in a row.

“This game sucks!” he said, as he flopped back on the floor. “Why do I keep freaking losing?!”

“Because  _you_  suck,” Honda said, and Jounouchi glowered at him. “Want to give it another shot?”

“Yes,” Jounouchi snapped, and he pushed himself up again. Honda had to hand it to him: He didn’t know how many people would keep coming back for more punishment. “Jeez, how many hours have  _you_  clocked on this thing, anyway?”

Honda shrugged. “Enough.” In truth, it was one of his favorite games, though he usually only played it against the CPU. Ayumu wasn’t interested in it, his parents disapproved of video games even if they let Honda’s grandparents purchase them for him, and it wasn’t as if Honda ever had anyone else over to play with him. As annoying as Jounouchi could be, Honda could admit—to himself, at least—that it was nice to finally have someone real to play against. “You know, if you calmed down and tried harder, you could probably work out some combos.”

“I’ll work out my fist in your face,” Jounouchi said, and Honda scoffed.

“Yeah?” he said, as they moved off the character select screen and he picked a stage. “Well, come over here and try it, then.”

**\- - -**

Honda’s parents weren’t too thrilled when they came home to find that their son and his science partner were playing video games, but before Honda could try to sputter an excuse that would keep him from getting in trouble, Jounouchi rattled off a ton of made up information about their science project to mollify them. In the end, his mother seemed pleased enough that she allowed them to keep playing until dinner, especially once they both promised to work on the project was dinner was through.

“See?” Jounouchi said in an undertone, as they turned back to the TV. “That wasn’t so bad, right?”

“For now,” Honda muttered, but he had to admit he was a bit impressed. Jounouchi came up with a lie far quicker than he was able to.

Ayumu arrived home shortly before dinner, and gave Jounouchi a disdainful look when she saw he was still there, but although Honda would have empathized with her earlier in the week, by the time they sat down at the table he felt that she was maybe overreacting a little. Being called  _sista_  wasn’t so bad, and Jounouchi wasn’t, either, even if he was a bit annoying and did suck at  _Street Fighter II_. Maybe Ayumu, much like Honda, would get used to Jounouchi given enough time, too. (Not that Jounouchi was really his friend, Honda reminded himself, and he would only be around until they finished their science project. But even so, he wasn’t completely intolerable, just mostly, and maybe Ayumu would see that before the project was done.)

Dinner consisted of grilled mackerel and rice, and though Honda wasn’t too impressed by it, Jounouchi seemed to be. His eyes grew as wide as the rice bowls when he saw the meal laid out in front of them, and to the delight of Honda’s mother, he asked not only for seconds, but also for thirds.

Jounouchi stayed around for another two hours after dinner, and as promised, they worked diligently on their project. By the time he left and Honda shut the door behind him, his parents looked happier than they had in weeks.

“He seemed like a nice boy,” his mother said. “Did you two get a lot of work done on your project?”

“Yeah,” Honda said, though he felt a little bemused about how his mother came to the conclusion that Jounouchi was 'nice.’ His father grinned.

“We’re glad to hear it. It’s nice to see you taking your schoolwork so seriously,” he said.

“And nice that you’ve got a friend, too,” his mother added, and Honda made a face. “Will he be coming over tomorrow?”

“Maybe,” Honda said. The next day was Saturday, a half day, and he hadn’t planned on having Jounouchi over, but—

“Good,” his father said. “You do well on this project, and we might just see about taking you down to the animal shelter on our next day off.”

Honda’s heart soared. “You mean it?” When both of his parents nodded, Honda felt a large grin split his face, and his steps felt lighter as he charged back to his bedroom.

He still had about an hour before bed, so he could get a little extra work done on his project until then. He was sure Jounouchi wouldn’t mind.

**\- - -**

The next two weeks passed considerably quickly. It was much easier working on the project now that Honda knew for sure it would get his parents to let him adopt a dog, and once he told Jounouchi, Jounouchi seemed even more willing to work than before.

“Do you like dogs?” Honda asked one day, as they made their way to his house after school. (They went there about every day now, usually to play a few video games before they got started on work. Typically they played  _Street Fighter II_ , but Honda had introduced Jounouchi to  _Battletoads_ as well. He had tried to interest him in  _Doom_ , but Jounouchi didn’t take to the horror elements very well.) It occurred to him that he didn’t know whether or not Jounouchi liked dogs or not, or anything else about him, really, for that matter.

“They’re okay,” Jounouchi said, and he shrugged. “So long as they keep away from my bike, anyway.”

Honda frowned. “Your bike? What do dogs have to do with your bike?”

“Dunno. They just seem to hate bikes for some reason. At least in the mornings.” Jounouchi kicked at a stray rock, and Honda—not knowing what that meant, but also not wanting to bother unpacking it—let the subject drop.

**\- - -**

By the time the final week of June rolled around, with presentations on their projects set up throughout the week, Honda found himself wrangling with mixed feelings of dread and anticipation. The anticipation, he knew, was for his dog; he had a list of possible names in his notebook, written out in alphabetical order, and he had already been looking at different collars and leashes in various pet care magazines over the past week or so. The dread was something he couldn’t understand nearly so well. Their project was all but completed, Honda was sure they were going to get a good grade, and so he didn’t know why he felt so . . . so  _disappointed_  when it seemed they were finally finished Tuesday afternoon, two days before their project was due.

So absorbed was he in these thoughts after school on Wednesday that he didn’t really pay attention to where he was walking, and it was because of this that he walked face first into another student as he exited through the school gate. He muttered a noncommittal apology, but when he backed up, he saw that the student he had bumped into was Kumoda from class 1-C. On either side of Kumoda stood his two friends, Mikoshiba and Fujimoto, and Honda felt a thread of exasperation and foreboding coil through him.

“Might want to watch where you’re walking, eh, Honda?” Kumoda said, as Mikoshiba and Fujimoto snorted on either side of him. These three were kids that Honda hadn’t particularly liked since elementary school, though most of that dislike came from them first. Like Honda, Kumoda had entered school late due to his birthday being shortly after April 1st, and for some reason that had compelled him to see Honda as something of a rival. Honda wasn’t interested in returning the rivalry, but that had never stopped the snide remarks and attempts to goad him into a fight before.

“Yeah,” Honda said. “Whatever. Anyway, see y—”

“So soon?” Fujimoto stepped in Honda’s path, and Kumoda and Mikoshiba likewise moved closer to complete the semi-circle. Honda clenched his jaw. No way was he going to fight now. Not when he was so close to getting his dog. No  _way_ — “We’re old friends, though. We haven’t see you in ages.”

“We’re not friends,” Honda said.

“We’re  _not_? Just because it’s been awhile?” Mikoshiba puffed out his lips in a mock pout. “That’s cold.”

“Play with us,” Kumoda said, and he reached out and pushed Honda’s shoulder. Honda dug his heels into the dirt. “We’re bored.”

“I’m not,” Honda said flatly. “Now leave me alone.”

“But we’re friends,” Fujimoto said.

“Honda-kun doesn’t want to be,” Mikoshiba said, and though his voice was still whiny, he was smirking. “He said we’re  _not_.”

“But we are, though,” Fujimoto said, and now he reached out to push Honda’s shoulder, too. “Right, Honda-kun?”

“No,” Honda said, and Fujimoto and Mikoshiba both gasped in mock offense while Kumoda’s smirk widened. “Now stop pushing me.”

“We’re just playing,” Kumoda said, and he snorted as he reached out and shoved Honda again. This time, Honda stumbled back a few paces, though he curled his fingers into fists as he did so. His parents couldn’t get mad at him for defending himself, could they? And while he had never fought before, much less with odds like these, if he remembered what he did wrong when he tried to hit Jounouchi before— “Don’t be so sensitive. If you’d just play with us a little, we’d leave you alone. So come on.” He pushed Honda again. “Play—” another shove, “—with us.” Kumoda reached out to shove Honda again, and this time, Honda shifted his stance to try and throw a punch—

—but before he could, a blond blur flew past him, and knocked Kumoda into the dirt.

“Wha—”  
  
“Who the—?!”

Mikoshiba and Fujimoto both seemed to be at a loss as Jounouchi pummeled Kumoda, but after a few seconds they seemed to regain their wits. Fujimoto pulled Jounouchi off, but after slamming the back of his fist into Fujimoto’s face, Jounouchi squirmed out of his grasp and spun on the balls of his feet, facing Kumoda, Mikoshiba, and Fujimoto with his typical give-'em-hell grin. Kumoda scrambled up from the dirt, his nose bleeding freely, and glowered furiously at Jounouchi.

“You little—who the hell do you think y—”

“That all you got?” Jounouchi taunted, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “ _Ha_! For as big as you are, it’s surprising your balls haven’t dropped yet.”

Kumoda, Fujimoto, and Mikoshiba exchanged one look before all three of them pounced on Jounouchi, but—not about to let someone else get pummeled on his behalf—Honda threw himself right in with them.

What followed was one of the most confusing (and painful) experiences of Honda’s life. The fight, being three on two, was somewhat lopsided, but what was amazing to Honda was that it seemed to be lopsided in their favor. Jounouchi easily squirmed away whenever any one of the other guys tried to grab him, and he hit with far more fury and skill than he had ever shown during their rounds of  _Street Fighter II_  (although, Honda supposed, Jounouchi’s speed and ferocity did sort of match up with his button mashing tendencies). Honda, for his part, tried to focus on taking on one opponent at a time, and—as Jounouchi had suggested before—threw his full weight into every punch. It was good advice, and there was something deeply satisfying about knowing that he was the reason Mikoshiba’s nose started gushing blood, but the force of his punches encouraged the others to try and gang up on him whenever he tried to engage just one of them. Unfortunately for them, that strategy didn’t pan out too well; every time two or more of them tried to gang up on Honda, Jounouchi pounced on them with all the intensity of an enraged wolverine, and they quickly decided that he was more of a problem instead. By the end of the fight, although Jounouchi and Honda were both bruised and bloody, Mikoshiba, Kumoda, and Fujimoto were as well, and Fujimoto was unconscious.

“You might wanna take care of him,” Jounouchi said, and he gestured at Fujimoto. “And you might wanna do it before I leave you in the same state.”

“We’ll beat your ass for this,” Kumoda said, his voice thick due to his broken nose.

Jounouchi scoffed. “Yeah, okay. You can try it, losers.” Jounouchi leaned back against the school gate as Kumoda and Mikoshiba dragged Fujimoto off, and when they were out of sight, Honda looked over to see that Jounouchi had sat down at the base of the gate and was cradling his arm. When he noticed Honda staring, Jounouchi looked up and explained, “I think the guy I knocked out broke my wrist when he twisted it. It’s why I knocked him out.”

Honda frowned. “Why’d you do that?”

“Uh, I just said, right?” Jounouchi said, frowning. “It’s 'cause he broke my wrist, or at least twisted it or something. Did you get a concussion, or—”

“No, I meant—why did you get involved?” Honda gestured to him. “You’re hurt now. It wasn’t any of your business.”

Jounouchi looked no less confused than before. “They looked like they were starting shit and you said you’d never been in a fight before, so I figured I’d help,” he said. “Besides, we’re friends, right? I don’t let people beat up my friends.”

Honda opened his mouth to say that, no, they weren’t friends—just science partners—but then he closed it again. His eye felt swollen, his mouth was full of blood, every part of him hurt, and he was pretty sure he would be limping as they walked home. But even with that, he knew that if he had tried to fight those three on his own, he would be in worse shape. And somehow, knowing that Jounouchi was willing to help him out—and seeing that Jounouchi looked honest-to-god  _confused_  that Honda was asking him why he did it—well . . .

“Yeah,” he said, and he offered his hand. Jounouchi grinned as he reached up and took it, and Honda pulled him to his feet. “Come on. My sister can probably help us get cleaned up.”

If he was going to have a friend, he supposed he could do worse than this one.

“Cool,” Jounouchi said, and he sniffed before he wiped some of the blood leaking from his own nose. “Hey, you did pretty good, by the way. A lot better than I thought you would considering it was your first fight. You’ve still got a lot to learn, though.”

“Yeah?” Honda said, though he wasn’t too sure he would be getting in another fight too soon. “Well, if you teach me how to brawl, maybe I’ll teach you how to not suck at  _Street Fighter_.”

“Psh. I don’t need to know how to not suck at  _Street Fighter_. I already know how to not suck at actual street fights,” Jounouchi said, but after a moment he added, “'Sides, I’m getting better.”

Honda rolled his eyes, but he grinned a little all the same. “Yeah, yeah,” he said. “If you say so.”


End file.
